Choices
by Lulala
Summary: Emma resists needing to make a choice between Neal and Hook, and finds herself struggling to maintain the tough exterior she once had. Post Neverland - Neverland resolution based on set pics (so potential spoilers). Emma x Killian (Captain Swan)
1. Chapter 1

"_You deserve a happy ending, Emma. And happy endings always begin with hope."_

Even after Gold stabbed Pan in the back, after Henry got his heart back, after many nights of his screams, his fear and regret still boiling over, there were two things Emma could concretely remember about Neverland. One was Mary Margaret's assurance about hope. And the other she tried as much as possible to ignore, hoping it would vanish like many of the rest of steamy hours, days spent in the jungle.

Emma never had hope, not even after rescuing Henry, and wasn't sure where to go to find it. Henry was with David and Mary Margaret at home while Emma drove, circling the town in her sheriff's cruiser aimlessly. As she drove past Granny's for practically the tenth time, Ruby's gaze followed her car, and she felt it, knowing and burning red as the streaks in her hair, as her lips. Emma resolved to avoid driving past again, or Ruby would tell her parents something was wrong – something other than the fact that her son just nearly died and was barely able to cope with the crushing self-doubt he now felt.

Belle lingered outside of Mr. Gold's pawn shop, holding a book and probably waiting for him to finish whatever magic he was up to. As she drove past the docks, Emma determinedly did not look at them, because she knew what was there, tied up and bobbing with the movement of the water, and did not want to think of it. Finally, she realized where she was going. The well. When August brought her there, everything changed, and it was the only place she didn't think anybody would look for her.

She was wrong.

"Emma," came a familiar voice as she sat with her back lightly resting against the stone of the well. Neal.

"Henry's at home," she said without thinking.

"That's great, but I wasn't looking for Henry. I was looking for you." He looked tired, even more tired than when she found him hunched in that cage. "I've been looking for you all day."

Which is why she kept moving. "Why?"

He watched her with an expression of incredulity that he seemed desperate to mask. "To talk," he said.

"To talk," she repeated. "About? Henry?"

"Listen, I love Henry, but can you forget about him for one second? This isn't about him."

_No_. "Okay."

"I hate how cheesy this sounds," he said with a small sigh. "I hate it. But I wanted to talk to you about…what you said."

"I told you," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "I wish I could change my secret, but I can't."

"Not that. The other thing."

Emma knew what he was talking about. But it was impossible. She couldn't. Not now, not ever, never. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. And this must be why it took me so long to find you."

It was true – she didn't want to be found. Not by Neal, or anyone else. The other party would remain nameless, faceless, and had to, or the memory would come back. The smell, the taste, the feeling of his hand in her hair…no. That was why she didn't even think of it.

"Come on, Emma," he pressed. "I know you don't want to. I love that about you. But we have to talk about it when I'm not, you know. Dying. We can't only talk about it when I'm dying."

"Fine," she relented. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Well," he said. "I told you I'd never stop fighting for you. I meant it." He took a chance on a smile – it was small, but present.

So now she should fall into his arms, right? Finally, Henry's entire family would be reunited – well, apart from the fact that his grandfather had just stabbed his great-grandfather to death, despite that very great-grandfather being intent on killing Henry. It was too fucked up for Emma to even continue her sarcastic line of thinking.

"I told him the same thing I'm telling you. It's not a contest," she finally said, more quietly than she meant to.

"Him?" Neal's eyebrows furrowed.

Emma stared. He wasn't going to make her say it.

Neal stared back, and she saw his smile was gone, replaced by an expression of anger, anger that held his eyebrows more tightly together. "That wasn't…I'm…okay." He smoothed his jacket and sat down across from her. He stood up again and began to pace.

"What is wrong with you?" Emma asked, annoyed with herself for wishing he'd get to the point. It was probably insensitive of her.

"This whole thing!" he said, voice slightly raised. "I wasn't even talking about Hook, and I don't know why you'd bring him up as a part of this conversation."

Emma felt her frown deepening and tried to ignore the squeeze of tightness in her chest. "Didn't you just say you'd fight for me?"

Neal turned on his heel to face her. "It's not that. I'm just wondering why his name is in this conversation at all. You said you loved me. That's what I want to talk about. I reminded you I'd always be fighting for you so you would know that, well. I want you, too."

Before she could stop herself, she snapped, "You'll never stop fighting for me? Okay, even if I could ignore the whole abandonment thing, the whole _jail_ thing – and stop, I know you'll blame August, but _you _made that choice – how could I ignore the _second _time you stopped? You think I don't know that August told you the curse was broken, but I do. _And you didn't come get me_. You didn't fight for me." Her shoulders began to shake under the weight of all the feelings she had suppressed for so long. Now was not the time to deal with them – Henry was her priority, after all – but she couldn't make them go away now. She felt like she was drowning in every feeling she ever tried to ignore.

"I thought you'd reject me," Neal immediately said, obviously growing upset as Emma's emotions escalated. "I knew you would. How could you forgive me? But now we're here, and it's all I want. It's all I ever wanted."

"Just don't lie," Emma said, holding her neck, her throat very still. She needed it to stay very stiff so that the sobs could not escape. "You say you'd always fight for me but it's a lie. Don't say that anymore."

"But you said you love me," he said again.

"I do," she said, feeling the pressure at the base of her neck. No sobs, not now. "I do, and I always will."

"So be with me," he said, more boldly than Emma had ever heard him speak before. "Be with me, Emma, and Henry can have his parents back, and I'll have you back."

One gasping sob escaped, and Emma felt her cheeks burn with crushing embarrassment. "Henry has his family back already," she said. "We don't need to be together for that to be true."

"But I _want _to be with you," he said. He had stopped pacing now, and crouched in front of her, searching her eyes, demanding that she meet his, but she couldn't.

"I love you," she said. "But I can't stop feeling like you're going to abandon me again. I know you'll say you won't, but we are living in the most screwed up circumstances, and I don't know what obstacles will be next, but I know the obstacles will be there because they always are. I can't trust you to be here for me if another obstacle comes."

He tried to speak, but she interrupted him. "You always blame the obstacles. You always do. I can't do it again."

"But –"

Sobs surged out, and she felt like she was choking instead of drowning, choking on tears she never wanted to shed. "You broke my heart every day for eleven years, over and over again. And then if I had a second heart, you broke it again and again when I found out you knew you could come to me, and didn't, and when you didn't trust me about Tamara. I can't."

She tried to reign in the sobbing, but couldn't. It was like she lost control of her body, of every muscle she knew how to hold exactly right so nobody would know how she was feeling. They all rebelled, giving away every bit of hurt she felt in that moment, maybe even in the time Neal was gone.

"I need to fix this," he finally said, choking a little on the last word. "But I need time."

"Take it," Emma said. "Take it, and leave me alone. I need to be alone."

"Emma, please," he said sadly. "Please talk to me."

Somehow, she summoned the strength to stand. "Not now." She strode past him, climbed into her car, and drove away, watching him shake his head and wipe away tears that had leaked from the corners of his eyes in her rearview mirror.

She needed comfort. She needed love, and warmth, and a safe environment where nobody could hurt her anymore. There was no way she could admit it to anyone, because she never sought comfort from anyone before. She needed somewhere that could show her what to do. She could have gone home, gone to her father and mother and cried on their shoulders like she never could when she was young, but didn't. That wasn't a place of comfort for her, but a place of awkwardness, of a strained relationship that would never be fully repaired.

She parked the car the last place she thought she'd go. She walked across the wooden planks that made up the last place she thought she'd be – or even should be. And the Jolly Roger loomed over her, its red paint standing out in the darkness. She could go here. She could. But wouldn't it be a mistake, too? She just needed somewhere safe, and somehow, she was here, and Hook was watching her from the deck as though he had known she'd show up all along.

"Emma," he said. "Love. You look troubled. Not that I find that a surprise."

She looked up at him, high above her, the pale light of the moon glinting in his eyes, visible even from where she stood. She always felt like his eyes were brighter than everyone else's, and that's why she always had to look at them. In Neverland, it was the first place she had looked whenever she saw him.

"It's not a surprise, no," she said, wishing she had checked to make sure her face wasn't too red before she got out of the car, and instantly hating herself for caring. "What are you doing, Hook?"

"I heard your car," he said simply. Explaining cars to him had been exhausting, largely because he was so curious about every aspect, and she spent hours supervising him while he sat in her yellow bug, flipping the turn signal on and off and cursing when he accidentally pressed the horn.

Emma's legs propelled her forward quickly, more quickly than she wanted them to, and she was climbing up the gangway, and then she was on the ship with no idea how she had even gotten there. It certainly wasn't where she wanted to be.

She realized it wasn't where she wanted to be as Hook stood near her, always nearer than he should, always close enough to smell, close enough to feel his breathing even though it wasn't touching her.

"Anything I can help with?" he asked. He watched her with his lips parted and his expression both soft and flirtatiously inviting – he couldn't help always looking a little arrogant. "I hate to tell you this, so I'll preface it with that I still quite fancy you – but you look terrible."

"I had a fight with Neal," she said before realizing. She didn't want to say that, hadn't planned to. It just came out.

"Which I am undoubtedly responsible for," he said. She watched his eyes drop, the light vanishing. "Emma, I am…well, sorry is not right - my apologizes, but you know me, and you know I'm not. I feel badly, though, to cause a fight between you and your love."

That moment, her eyes widened and she stared, completely forgetting that she was upset, even. "Why would you think that?"

He looked suddenly embarrassed, and she carefully memorized the expression, because she knew she was unlikely to ever see Hook embarrassed again. "I just…I assumed all that about our…you know…was bothering him."

She shook her head. "Not that. Why would you think that Neal is, as you say, my 'love'?" she asked, imitating his accent.

"Is this a trick?" he said, still looking embarrassed. His shoulders slumped in a way that Emma couldn't identify.

"No," she said.

"You love him, and I know that," Hook said simply. "I do not accept it, and still maintain that I _will _win your heart, but I know it. I'm not stupid."

She knew he wasn't. She never thought he was, not even when he was working with Cora. It was never Cora she was trying to outsmart. When she thought about their next move, Hook was always the first obstacle she'd mull over. He only helped Cora because he was angry that Emma hadn't trusted him, and it took her awhile to come to terms with that, but once she had, he was easy to forgive. She knew how it felt to trust someone and be betrayed. She couldn't blame him for being angry.

"I need a drink," Emma said, voice wavering. "I know you have something."

"That," Hook said, placing his hand on her arm lightly to guide her below deck, "can be arranged." He seemed almost happy suddenly. "I do believe in the power of a stiff drink."

Emma drank two shots of rum before she even considered speaking. Hook sat on a wooden bench across from her, just like he had when they toasted Neal on the way to Neverland. The best thing about Hook was that he didn't _say _anything as she drank. Everyone else she knew would have commented. It meant more to her than she could allow herself to feel.

"I don't know what to say," Emma said lamely. She slammed another drink.

"If I've learned anything, that's the way to figure it out," he said with a smirk. He moved next to her so he could pour her drinks more easily. As always, he was close – too close – and she could smell leather and salt and soap. He clearly had no concept of personal space. Emma had lived distantly from everyone but Neal, so having someone even so physically close to her made her feel alert, like she needed to do something to protect herself. So instead, she took another swig, this time from Hook's flask. Mistake.

It tasted like the taste she didn't want to remember. It was stupid to come here, and she knew it now even more than every other moment she knew it as she approached the ship. But where else could she have gone? She put the flask down, thinking only of his lips on it, and abruptly pressed her head against Hook's shoulder, the worn leather soft on her cheek. "Sorry," she said immediately. "Rough day."

"And you didn't even take me on a proper date first," Hook said. His tone reminded her of another time, another thing he had said, something that had changed her life: _Is that all your father's life is worth to you_? She felt overwhelmed, but couldn't move – all she could do was sink deeper, deeper into Hook's shoulder, and when he smoothly wrapped his arm over her shoulder, she sank into his chest, and kept sinking. She felt his arms around her, and it was mercifully silent save the sound of water churning against wood. Neal's face disappeared from her mind, Henry's pain was gone from her ears, and all she felt was leather, warmth, and safety. Everyone else thought Hook was dangerous, and he certainly had that element at other times, but right now, he was safety.

His chin rested on top of her head and he said nothing, whether because he had nothing to say or couldn't, Emma didn't know. She knew it was wrong to be here, but she sank deeper still. She felt herself breaking apart, bit by bit, as her carefully assembled stature – fearless, strong, tough – weakened and disintegrated. She couldn't handle everything Neal had just dredged up, and now she was breaking down in front of someone; she could hardly bear the shame.

"I'm not objecting to this in the slightest," Hook said. "But what's wrong?"

"I just needed a place to go," she said quietly.

He didn't ask why she couldn't go home – he just accepted it, accepted her, and gave as much of his warmth to her as he held her that she could take. It was selfish, so selfish. She came here for comfort, knowing he would give it, not caring if it hurt him.

"Why did you want to kiss me?" she blurted. It felt important to her.

She felt the small smile that he allowed to spread across his lips. She couldn't see it but knew it was there somehow. "Many reasons," he said. "None of which, I might add, have any relation to the fact that I am supposed bad news, or a heartless, lady-killing pirate." He spat the last word a little.

"Why, though?" she pressed, knowing he was trying to get out of talking about feelings just like she would have. The only time he didn't try to get out of it was when Emma had wanted to save Neal, both his friend and his rival.

"Because," he said. "You are quite – forgive my language – charming to me, Emma. You are both tough and sensitive, sweet and determined, full of a hope that I am not, a caring mother, and above all, a lady who can stand on her own two feet. Damsels in distress, while occasionally a bit of fun, are vastly overrated." There was that wit of his, both sharp as a cutlass and subtle as one. But it made her smile. He didn't care what people thought about what he said, and she liked that.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"And I love you, obviously, but that's a mostly irrelevant part of the reason. I wanted to know your feelings, and that was more important. As I understand it, your family believes in finding your true love through kissing, or something like that."

He must have spent time with David to know the story of him and Snow. It didn't strike her as odd, but made her feel strangely warm and safer than before. He was bold and he said what he thought. He'd never run. He'd never be cowardly enough to stay away from her because he was afraid to be rejected. He'd arrive, and she'd melt like she was melting against him right now, and he'd declare himself regardless of the harm that may come to him. That's just who he was.

"What did you find?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

"Something like getting struck by lightning when you're sopping wet," he said.

She slowly lifted her head away from him so she could look at him. The angle of his cheeks to his chin always surprised her when she saw his face. They were so unlike anyone else's in a way she couldn't place, and she hated feeling that way. She hated everything to do with the way she felt when she saw Hook. The light in his eyes was back, sparkling in its usual dangerous but gentle way. But she knew after spending time with him in Neverland that the gentleness was only there when she was near him. She lost herself in it before she could stop it. She felt herself slipping away in favor of an Emma who didn't care what happened, an Emma who only wanted one thing and would do anything to get it.

She grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him to her more roughly than she meant to. She had forgotten how close he was, how close he always was to her. If her mouth moved a muscle, it'd touch his, and it would over. Her self-control would be gone. He sat very still, probing her gaze with his, a question there that she didn't know how to answer. She wondered why he didn't close the small and agonizing space between them without stopping to wonder why she found it agonizing. Regardless of why, it was, and she knew he wouldn't move after they sat that way for what felt like minutes. She could feel his soft, warm breath on her face, tickling the tiny hairs on her cheeks. She knew he wouldn't move because he probably felt sure she loved Neal, felt sure she didn't want this again.

She did. She didn't have to grab him, or barely move. She wasn't even sure how it happened. But she was kissing him and he was kissing her back, and it was safe and warmer than she remembered, but somehow dangerous, too – risky in a way she couldn't describe. He wove his hand into her hair and with a jolt, she realized why it felt risky. That was him, that was Hook, and any girl that ever saw Hook saw at least a little of the danger in him – the danger that once he had you, you'd never get away. And that was how Emma felt now. She couldn't stop, and when she tried, she felt a pull toward him that was almost magnetic. She needed more, now, and then more, and more.

Right now he tasted like the sweet, spicy rum they had just drank. It overwhelmed her all the way to her bones as his lips kept moving with hers, more and more intense every second. She couldn't stop, and the rum made her thoughts feel slower, but she wanted more, too. She tried to stop again but Hook's mouth found hers, starving and gentle at the same time, and then less gentle, and she thought she was going to burn with the heat she felt inside her, the bubbling electric waves that grew hotter and hotter. But she had to have more, because it tasted too good to stop, it felt too good. When she found his tongue, she needed even more, and she had no idea how much time had passed, but she couldn't stop, didn't want to. The Emma that didn't care had taken over.

He picked her up suddenly, easily, and she was straddling his lap and in control, still wanting and never sure she'd have enough. He touched the skin of her cheek and Emma felt it blaze beneath his fingertips, their lips still together. It burned, and she pulled back, suddenly aware of where she was and what she was doing. She had been aware the whole time, but now remembered what had happened before she came here. As quickly as she could bear to remove herself from him, she stood up, immediately feeling freezing cold without the heat of him near her. He held his hand over his mouth and looked awed, but oddly content.

"Don't leave," he said, knowing she would.

"I'm so sorry," she said more quietly than she meant to as she rushed as quickly as she could back to her car. Hook followed her to it and opened the door for her, looking confused but still unable to stop grinning in a way that made Emma want to grin too, even though she couldn't, shouldn't. This was wrong, and now she had _another _kiss she had to try to forget about. She drove away, feeling a wave of something strong but unidentifiable as she saw Hook's placid expression behind her and still felt the ghost of his lips against hers.


	2. Chapter 2

Killian, normally not the type to have regrets, couldn't help kicking himself after Emma left. He shouldn't have lifted her. She was certainly the toughest woman he'd ever pursued, but somehow one of the most fragile and most easily scared as well. He'd be patient with her, though, as much as he didn't like it. He didn't want to have to wait for her to come to him, but knew he had to. She had been through so much pain, and had immeasurably more to endure as Henry recovered from his near-death experience and she at last dealt with her feelings for Baelfire. Neal. Whatever. Killian didn't care what his name was. He loved him still, after all this time, but couldn't quell his hostility when he thought of him. Neal would take Emma from him if he could.

Killian hated it. He was _always _in control – except where Emma was concerned – and he couldn't stand giving her the space she needed, or even the time she needed with Neal. He trusted Emma unconditionally, and now knew, since she had kissed him again, that she wanted him in some capacity. But he couldn't stand it, not going to her, talking to her, seeing her, or even not making an ass of himself in front of her father. He needed to go sweep her off her feet, take her out on his ship in the moonlight and watch her pale skin, bathed in it, glow, to proclaim his feelings for her despite hating talking about them just as much as she did. But that wasn't what Emma needed. The worst part of the entire situation wasn't even that Killian could not control of how things turned out – it was that he _missed _her. He thought he loved Milah, and would never love anyone the way he had loved her, but Emma…it was unlike anything he ever felt before.

He tossed and turned that night, unable to forget the scent of her hair and the softness of her cheeks. Sudden and vivid dreams of losing his hand woke him at dawn. He headed above deck, feeling awake and alive as the chilly air nipped his cheeks.

Neal was there, looking as though he hadn't slept either.

"Mate," Killian said, a cloud of his own warm breath visible in the air. "What are you doing here? Get below deck, it's freezing."

Neal followed him without saying anything, but Killian could tell he was grateful by the way his hands stopped shaking in the warmth. Neal rubbed them together furiously.

"I appreciate it," Neal said.

Killian raised an eyebrow – it wasn't as though inviting him into the warmth was even that kind. "What the devil were you doing up there? You could have knocked on the cabin door. I know you know where it is."

"I was just thinking," Neal said.

How to respond to that, Killian was not sure. He considered a quip or two, but decided, very uncharacteristically, to be silent. Leaning against the wall, he examined his hook while Neal sat down on the bench Emma had kissed him on the night before. To be fair, if he hadn't cared to give Emma space and let her make the decisions where their relationship was concerned, _he _would have kissed _her_ immediately. Can't give her all the credit, after all. The moment that she waited for him to do so was the second longest of his life.

"How did you and Emma meet?" Neal asked suddenly. He didn't seem angry, but Killian wouldn't have cared if he did.

"We climbed a beanstalk," Killian replied. "She locked me up in the giant's lair because she didn't trust me."

Neal smiled slightly at that.

"I double-crossed Cora, the queen of hearts, to help her," Killian added, though he could sense Neal wasn't listening anymore. Killian resisted the urge to point out that the reason Emma couldn't trust him was probably related to what Neal had done to her.

_I must not tell Neal that Emma was here. I must not tell Neal that Emma was here_, Killian chanted to himself. He wanted to. He wanted to more than anything. He could imagine Neal's smile slipping into a frown, could maybe even feel the force of Neal's fist against his forearm (because he'd block the blow, _of course_) when Killian told him what had happened. But he didn't need to brag. All he needed was Emma, and he was certain she would want Neal to know this time – but it shouldn't come from him.

"I have to thank you," Neal said eventually. "I know you haven't really seen Emma since we've been back, and I'm…grateful. We need some time to figure things out. Thank you for giving it to us."

Guilt clawed up the back of Killian's neck, but he wasn't a stranger to the feeling and suppressed it. Besides, it was technically true. _He_, technically speaking, _had _stayed away from Emma. A flare of anger erupted, however, after the guilt subsided.

"So you and Emma need time to work things out," he said, trying not to let his anger creep into his tone. It was like Neal thought he wasn't a legitimate possibility for Emma, like he didn't matter in the scheme of things because Neal was Henry's father, or because he saw Emma first, or some other thing more juvenile than that.

"We fought yesterday," Neal admitted, "but I told her I needed time to make it right, and she agreed."

The flare of anger was larger. Much larger. So large Killian thought he couldn't keep it inside anymore. He realized Neal, just like everyone else, thought Emma couldn't have feelings for him because he was a _pirate_, or something else equally unimportant and irrelevant. Neal should know better than anyone that he was more than that.

"Listen, mate, I'm off to Granny's," Killian said suddenly. "I'd love to stay and chat but I have pressing pirate business to attend to and all that."

Neal blinked. "You're angry."

"Hungry," Killian corrected, turning his back so Neal wouldn't see his expression.

"You can't honestly have thought she'd want you," he said. But it wasn't driven by malice – Killian could tell. Neil didn't know anything about the time they had spent together, and was worried about losing Emma for good. Hook couldn't blame him – he could only imagine how he would behave if he had done something stupid enough to put Emma off him for eleven years. But Neal didn't know anything about Killian anymore, or about all he did to show Emma he cared about her, or even all he would do to show her. Maybe he didn't even know Emma anymore.

Knowing Neal was uninformed and scared, however, didn't make Killian less angry. If anything, it stoked the fire. "Nervous?" Killian asked with a small smirk. It was more mocking than he meant it to be, but he wasn't sorry.

"She'll forgive me because that's who she is," Neal said. "I know her, and she is not someone who deserves someone like you."

"I'd never have let her go in the first place," Killian snapped. "Maybe what she doesn't deserve is someone like you."

"I made huge mistakes in the past," Neal said, regret in his eyes. "But Emma knows I was just trying to help her. I think people deserve second chances."

"Then get off my ship because it's clear to me you haven't a bloody thing to thank me for, since you are so certain that you'll have Emma's forgiveness regardless of my presence." Killian couldn't believe Neal didn't see that he was keeping his distance for _Emma_, not for him.

Neal stood, rubbing his hands together again. "I'm just trying to do the right thing here. I didn't want you to get attached to her. I thought I owed you that at least."

Killian's eyes narrowed. "You'll find that we're square, Baelfire. Leave now or I'll introduce you to my hook."

"She said it wasn't a competition," Neal said, stopping in the doorway. He turned over his shoulder. "Remember that, and maybe we can be friends again like we used to once this is all over."

Killian raised his hook, and Neal rushed out the door. All Killian wanted in that moment was Emma. She had shown him that there was more to life than revenge, more to life than being a damaged orphan, and he wanted to hold her again. Hopefully he would be able to.

* * *

When Killian arrived at Granny's, hoping to pass the time waiting for Emma to come to him again, he saw Henry sitting at a booth alone with an empty mug. Traces of cinnamon were left around the inside of the rim.

"Little mate," Killian greeted him, sitting down at a nearby table.

Henry didn't look like Killian remembered him at all. His eyes were less bright, more sunken. He looked paler, shrunken in an odd way Killian couldn't place. He sat more still than Killian had ever seen him sit. "Hook," he said in dull acknowledgement.

"I'm sorry," Killian said. It came out on its own, and there was nothing he could do. "You've been through a lot. I hope you're all right."

Henry shrugged, his facial expression immovable.

Killian sighed, feeling the burden of actually caring for the boy in the pit of his stomach. Life as an outlaw had its own set of challenges, but Killian sometimes missed selfishness and indifference toward others. He slid into the seat across from Henry.

"It may comfort you to know I have never personally felt the need to obey authority figures," Killian tried, more hopeful than he should have been. There was a time long ago that he did, but not anymore. Not since his brother died.

"I don't understand that," Henry said. "I listen to my parents…" he trailed off, suddenly looking more upset than before.

Killian cursed internally. He had no idea he was _capable _of making a situation worse. He stuffed his hand in the pocket of his jacket, searching for what to say next. His fingers rested on something scratchy, coiled – a rope.

"All right," Killian said. "I've got just the thing for you." He pulled the bit of rope out and set it in the middle of the table.

Henry stared at it, unimpressed. "Rope."

"Sometimes," Killian said, "the best way to take your mind off things is to keep your hands busy."

"Let me guess," Henry began. Killian saw just a glimmer of the old Henry as the boy sat up a little straighter. "You – _Captain Hook_ – are going to teach me how to tie knots."

"Right you are," Killian said. "And if you get good enough, maybe I'll even take you out on the good old Jolly Roger." He meant it. He just wanted to see the kid smile again. Maybe he even wanted to make Henry smile more than he wanted to make Emma smile.

Henry didn't smile until he learned his third knot. Neither Henry nor Killian noticed Emma watching them through the windows from inside her cruiser, parallel parked across the street.

* * *

Emma saw Hook sit down across from her son as she pulled into a parking space across the street from Granny's. She knew she'd find Henry there, but was not expecting to see Hook…especially so soon. Avoiding Hook and Neal forever wasn't an option, though, and what's more, she had feelings for them both. If there was one thing her parents taught her since they had been reunited, it was that love can be painful, but it can be one of the best feelings, too. Emma never needed someone before, and she still didn't – but having someone, she realized, was different than needing them. Loving them and letting them love you was different from needing them, too. She'd never need anyone to help her stand on her own two feet. Hadn't Hook just said he liked her because she did that?

After watching Henry and Hook for a few moments, the unbelievable happened – Henry smiled. She saw the rope in his hand, watched Hook show her son what knots he could, and describe the ones he could no longer do without his second hand. Henry's eyes shone with glee, and she could imagine the novelty of it to him. Hopefully, Henry would get absorbed in what Hook was teaching him and forget, at least partially, about Neverland. Emma knew someone in town would find a way to cheer him up if she couldn't, but she was surprised to find Hook helping. _At this point, though, nothing he does should surprise me_.

She watched Henry laugh as Hook said something (probably wildly inappropriate for Henry's age) and realized she wanted to be in there with them, so she got out of the car. The bell on the door to Granny's jingled as she entered.

"Mom!" Henry said, waving her over.

Hook's expression was frozen in surprise, but he managed to still somehow look smoldering, which was infuriating even though his attractiveness didn't even rank in the top twenty things she liked best about him. She turned to focus on the much more important part of the equation: Henry.

"I thought I'd find you here, kid," she said, ruffling his hair and sitting down next to him. She felt Hook's eyes on her and her stomach did a thoroughly embarrassing and annoying leap into her throat. "Hot chocolate again?"

"It's cold this morning," Henry said with a small smile. "Look, Hook is teaching me how to tie knots!"

"And he'd make a bloody good sailor," Hook said. "Not unlike his mother." Had he just winked at her? She couldn't be sure. She rolled her eyes and tried to suppress a smirk but couldn't.

Henry showed Emma the knots he knew, making mistakes several times while Hook corrected him. He was completely absorbed in what Hook had taught him, pulling a face when he eventually wound the rope into such a congealed blob that Hook had to help him untie it. Henry corralled Ruby at the counter to watch him execute his new talent, leaving Hook and Emma alone in the booth.

"He seems a little better," Hook said. "I was just trying to help."

"Thank you," Emma said. It felt like she was always saying thank you to Hook.

"Listen," Hook lowered his voice. "About last night…"

Emma shook her head. "I'm sorry. It was my fault."

"It's not that," Hook said, a mischievous look in his eye. He had that look before they kissed in Neverland. "I wanted to tell you that Neal stopped by my ship this morning. I didn't say anything…"

Emma closed her eyes, wishing she knew what to do. "I'll talk to him."

Hook leaned a little closer to her across the table. His voice still hushed, he said, "If you want to know what I thought about last night, you can come back tonight and find out." She couldn't even look him in the eye. It would be too hard to say no.

"Be serious," she said, hoping he wouldn't pursue the train of thought.

She should have known better. "I'm not trying to pressure you, Emma. But you're always welcome, for advice, comfort, or…otherwise."

Her chest felt about to split open. She was so tired of trying to contain all of her feelings there. She hardened herself, removing all emotion from her voice as she said, "I appreciate it. I'm going to focus on Henry for now."

"If you come again, I may begin to think I have won your heart like I promised," he said. When he was unsure about something or nervous in any way, his bottom lip would always quiver just slightly – so slightly it was nearly imperceptible, but Emma saw it.

"Hook – "

Henry started to move back toward them.

"Just remember," he said, "that when you want me, I'm here, love. Always."

Even though she remembered what it felt like when he left her in Rumple's cell, remembered the acidic regret she felt as he told her he would have trusted her, the way he had looked at her hopefully at first, and then angrily… He wasn't a different person – he was a person who had learned how to trust again. Learned the moment he met her. And she believed him.

* * *

GUH Neal is so hard to write. Anyway, review if you want. :)

With hope,

Lulala


	3. Chapter 3

Killian had left shortly after Henry returned to the booth. It pained him to leave, especially since he was sincerely enjoying himself, but he had two more things he needed to do, and one would be more embarrassing than he could stomach – but it was necessary.

Rumplestiltskin's shop looked quiet from the outside, but inside, Belle had a feather duster firmly in hand while Rumple followed her, incessantly reminding her not to break anything while she waved him off, annoyed. They both froze when Killian entered.

"Good morning," he said cautiously. "I'll preface this with that I'm not here to kill or assault either of you today."

Belle surprisingly said, "Good morning! It's awfully cold outside, isn't it?"

The weather. Killian smiled slightly. Rumple wasn't so welcoming. "If you've come here for a favor, you can leave now."

Belle gave him a look of warning. "What brings you here, Hook?"

He cleared his throat. This…would not be easy. "I wanted to say…that I apologize."

Rumple looked angry. "This is hardly enough to redeem—"

"Not to you, Dark One – to Belle."

Belle looked surprised, but not unwilling to listen. "Okay," she said.

She really was kind – Killian couldn't believe she'd choose Rumple. There must have been something _exceedingly _redeemable about him that only she knew. "Attacking you in the library was wrong, and shooting you was _very _wrong…and I apologize for the damage I have done. I made poor decisions and lived only for revenge, and I should not have tried to harm you for it." He looked at the ground, more embarrassed than he had ever been in his life. Apologizing was overrated, but Killian knew he owed this and more to her. "I'm glad you have your memories, as well," he added for good measure.

"Thank you, Hook," she said. "I accept your apology."

"What?" Rumple growled.

"Can't you see he's sorry?" she waved the duster in the air exasperatedly. "I can tell he is!"

"This is about Emma, not because he's sorry," Rumple said. "She's not that easily tricked."

"So I'm easily tricked?" Belle rounded on him.

Killian had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Seeing Rumple so…easily contended with…it was truly funny. "I didn't mean to cause trouble," Killian insisted. "I just wanted to offer you my apologies. You deserve them."

"Ignore Rumple," she said as he stormed from the room. "I appreciate it very much."

Killian bid her goodbye and left the shop shortly after, his shoulders feeling oddly light. He had one more thing to do, and as embarrassing as apologizing to his bitter foe's woman was, this would be worse.

* * *

He knocked on the apartment door, knowing Emma was at work and Henry was with Regina, since that was where Emma had said she was taking him when he was with them at Granny's. Mary Margaret answered, smirking slightly when she saw Killian.

"Good morning, Hook," she said. "Come on in."

David was in the kitchen cooking breakfast, and he looked more surprised to see Killian than Mary Margaret was. "Good morning," he said politely. He had to be polite – even if he didn't want to.

"Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, if you're hungry," Mary Margaret said.

"Thanks, but I'm fine," Killian said. "I actually came to talk to David about something."

David didn't look surprised. In fact, he looked like he had expected to see Killian – but there was no way he could know what Killian wanted. It was preposterous, really. "Is this the kind of thing Emma's mother shouldn't hear, or…?" David trailed off.

Killian sighed. "She can stay, as long as she promises not to laugh."

"Oh, Hook," she said, "I would never…"

"But you don't know what it is yet," he said. "The truth is, I need your help with something."

David and Mary Margaret exchanged a glance. Killian could tell David still wasn't sold on him, and that he probably didn't want to help him, but his wife's glance was both urging and reassuring. "You did save my life," David said. "Okay. What can I do for you? Within reason," he added.

Killian took a deep breath. He was rarely embarrassed, but…he couldn't help being right now. "It's my…" he groaned. "I can't believe I'm saying this. It's my clothes. I want to wear something…from this world."

Mary Margaret smiled, but it wasn't mocking. "We can help you find something," she said.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with impressing Emma, would it?" David asked suspiciously. "If I know anything about you, it's that you rarely do anything without thinking of her anymore."

Killian grinned, relieved he was able to say what he needed to say and that their reactions weren't too humiliating. "Come on now, mate," he said. "I think we can agree my current clothing is more than enough to impress any lady. I just wanted to try something new."

But it was somewhat true. He wanted Emma to see him in this world – he'd stay here with her until he died if she wanted him to. He didn't miss magic or need it for anything when Emma was in his life. He wanted her to know he could live here just like Baelfire could. To do that, he figured he should try to look the part.

"I think it's cute," Mary Margaret said with a giggle.

David eyed her uncertainly. "You do realize he's vying for _our _daughter, right?"

"Honey, I love you, but you have to let her choose for herself."

"Okay, Hook," David said with a sigh. "Let me eat my breakfast. Then, we're going shopping."

* * *

After dropping Henry off at Regina's to stay for a few days, Emma went to the beach. She had called Neal and he agreed to meet her there. She sat in the sand and dragged her fingers through it even though it was cold. They felt numb already. She felt numb all over. She thought about Hook, mostly, and the way she wasn't able to stop going to him or wanting to kiss him. It felt like she was addicted to being around him, and what she wanted more than anything was the freedom to be an ordinary woman and let herself test the feelings, but there was nothing ordinary about the situation.

Neal sat down next to her suddenly. She had been so absorbed in the sand and her thoughts that she hadn't heard him coming.

"Hey," he said easily. Like they hadn't just fought. Like she hadn't said things would be easier if he was dead.

"Hi," she said.

It was silent for a few moments. All Emma could hear was the scratchy sound of her own fingers still digging in the sand.

"How are you?" Neal asked.

"I'm doing okay," she said automatically. She _was _okay, but also confused. Or maybe not confused. She couldn't even tell anymore. "You?"

"A little worried," he said. "I was with the Darlings last night after you left, and something weird is happening to Wendy."

"Weird?"

"We think she's…growing."

Emma wasn't surprised. She had come to expect such things when magic was involved. "She must be growing up."

"But faster," Neal said. "Being in Neverland shouldn't have affected how quickly she grew up after she left."

Emma pondered that for a moment. "She must be magic."

"Or someone magic is helping her…" he sighed. "I guess I'll have to drop in on my dad."

Emma had dug all the way down to the sand that was wet.

"This isn't why you asked me here, though," Neal said. "Why did you?"

She swallowed hard. "I have to confess something to you."

"This can't be good. Okay, what is it?"

"I kissed Hook," she said, surprised at how the words sounded out loud. They sounded less incriminating than she thought they would. Less awkward, too, even though she had already thought a lot about who he was…and had decided it didn't matter, because that wasn't truly who he _was_. He was a person, just like her – not a name or a character.

"I know," Neal said. He put his hand over Emma's in the sand, probably to comfort her, and she was swimming very suddenly in the past. His hands weren't as rough as Hook's, but they were still just as she remembered them. "Hook told me about it in Neverland. But we're past that now, aren't we?"

Emma seriously considered leaving it at that. She may not have been comfortable with his hand over hers, but she could learn to be comfortable like this again. Neal was a good person, despite what had happened in their past, and she had loved him so deeply once that it hurt. She could get back to that, couldn't she? No – she had learned her lesson after lying to Henry about his father being dead. She wouldn't lie again.

"Not then," she said finally. He had mindlessly begun stroking her hand, but stopped now. "I went there last night, and…and…"

Neal jerked his hand away. "And?" he demanded.

"I just got distracted…but I left right after. Nothing happened." There. She told the truth. That wasn't so hard.

"You got distracted?" Neal asked, sounding upset. He looked at her. "What are you doing, Emma?"

His accusatory tone made her instinctively snap to the defensive. "What do you mean?"

"What in the hell are you doing? That's what I mean."

"Trying to figure things out!" she said.

"We're trying to raise a child here, Emma," he said. "You can't just go running off at night with that guy. And what's more, he was with my _mother_! You honestly can't be serious."

"Yeah, and you were with Tamara!" Emma snapped. "Everyone has people in their past. Even you. And it's not like I'm whoring around or something! I'm just confused!"

Neal shrugged his shoulders, anger still looming behind his eyes. "I can't see how. There's an obvious choice here, Emma, and the fact that you can't make it scares me. It will be hard to forgive you for this."

"So now this is a matter of _you _forgiving _me_?!" Emma lost it. Her good sense and ordinarily very practical demeanor was gone, just like that. She didn't cry, couldn't, because there were no more tears left, but suddenly she was back in her jail cell, waking up after a dream of Neal telling her he loved her, and wondering how she got there. Then, she'd have to remember what had happened all over again. She could almost feel the stirring of Henry inside her stomach like she could then, the constant reminder that she wasn't truly as alone as she felt.

When Neal first came back, Emma thought she could forgive him. She wanted to. Neal made her feel like a good person at a time when she wasn't one. Her life didn't feel worthless, and she didn't feel unwanted or discarded. _Until he left me to go to jail, didn't try to find me, was about to marry someone else, and then decided he loved me still_. With Neal, she felt like she had a family and a home, even though they didn't have either of those things at the time. But now, the dark shining eyes of distrust lingered in her mind when Neal made promises. She tried to suppress it, imagining herself stabbing them out with a longsword like her father would, but nothing happened. She screamed at them and told them to leave her alone, because she loved Neal and trusted him and there was nothing they could do about it, but they stayed, staring knowingly at her. They were doing this now, saying to her, _See? He thinks _you've _done wrong._

"Clearly," Neal said, as composed as he could, "this conversation has lost control. We'll try again tomorrow."

She stood up and walked slowly back to her car, feeling like someone had drugged her. Her limbs felt heavy. She went back to the sheriff's station and sat very still at her desk. A single tear slid down her cheek. She knew where she wanted to go when five o'clock rolled around.

* * *

These pants called jeans, Killian learned, were not comfortable. They felt heavy and scratchy against his skin, and the blue color bothered him. Why didn't they make them in black? He had demanded that question of David in a moment of frustration, and David had said he had no idea. Perhaps they should have brought Mary Margaret along. First, he was offended that the shirt size that best fit his muscular frame was a large, and he had no idea why he felt so offended at that. But really, he wasn't _that _large, was he? David laughed at him at that. Then the necklines of the shirts David chose for him were not nearly low enough, which he was quick to point out, and David laughed again and told him to deal with it. He had picked out a leather jacket for Killian, as well, and he felt like Emma when he put it on, since it was smaller and shorter like hers instead of his usual jacket.

It was dark very early due to winter's swift approach, and Killian stood on the deck of the Jolly Roger, wearing his new clothes and staring at the stars. It was one of the first clear nights since he had been in Storybrooke, and he wanted to see what was different here.

"We need to talk." Emma.

He turned around. She was there, standing several feet behind him and looking more tired than the night before. But beautiful. Always beautiful.

* * *

Emma went to Hook's ship still angry with Neal, not caring what anybody thought. She wanted to see Hook. Maybe he could help her make a decision. She always felt better after talking to him. She could see his outline in the darkness, but the first thing she noticed was that his coat was different – it was like a normal jacket. Was he wearing jeans?

"We need to talk," she said as steadily as she could.

He turned around. He had clearly gotten new clothes – clothes for this world. The jeans he wore weren't as tight as his usual pants, but she couldn't help her eyes lingering places they shouldn't have. He just looked so…normal, but not normal, either. Very, very abnormal, even with his hook replaced by his wooden hand. His shoulders looked somehow broader in the normal jacket, and even though the neckline of his shirt didn't show off as much of his chest, she felt herself wanting to touch him there anyway.

"You're here," he said.

"You can't look normal even when you try, you know," Emma said.

He looked slightly saddened by that. "I was assured that this was a proper outfit –"

"Not what I meant," she said. "You just don't blend in, that's all."

"I'm trying…"

"Your clothes are, but you're…"

"Good looking?" he said with an irresistible smirk. "I knew you'd come around, Swan."

She closed the space between them, wrapping her arms around his waist. He returned the embrace, and she felt the same melting feeling she had before, as though she couldn't separate herself from him. She couldn't resist hooking her fingers through his belt loops, because she had never been able to do that before. His face was resting in the crook of her neck, and she could feel his lips and his breath there on the tender skin. She realized she had made a home with Neal in the past, a place she could go to feel loved and wanted…and that she had made the same kind of home with Hook, too. _I love him_, she suddenly realized. She didn't know that before. But he had earned her trust in Neverland, given her faith in the goodness in him, been there for her even when she tried to brush him off, and now was trying to fit into her life, and she was overwhelmed with it all. _I love him. I love him_. The thought gave her strength instead of weakness like she thought it would. _But I love Neal, too_.

"You know," he murmured against her skin, "I'm not wearing my hook. Maybe that's not an appropriate name for me anymore."

"Maybe not," she said, voice muffled as she buried her face in his chest.

"Killian, then," he said. "Could you call me that, love?"

"Killian," she said, feeling it move through her lips naturally.

* * *

I had to imagine Killian would have many complaints shopping for normal clothes given his preferences, haha. Review if you are so inclined. :)

Love,

Lulala


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